Behind Sanity
by Lani Lenore
Summary: This story is based on the book and the game. Alice has left Rutledge's, but she is haunted by a past she doesn't remember. This time she must save more than herself as she returns again to the abolished world of her childhood dreams.
1. Introduction: Alice's Awakening

**Introduction**

**BEHIND SANITY 2008 EXTENDED VER. (TOYS AND TERRORS)**

**7 /4/ 08**

Back in October 2006 when I finished this story off, I believe I mentioned that perhaps that wasn't all there was to the story… Well, I was right. The entire story is revamped (for the unknownth time since its beginning) and it's bigger and better than ever! (as always)

Here's what's changed:

New material in the first several chapters!

New chapters and adventures throughout!

New characters and expanded usage of old characters!

More toys!

More twists!

Extended final battle!

MORE INSANITY ALL AROUND! PASS THE TEA! TWO LUMPS PLEASE!

Completely new chapters will have a (NEW) stamp inside them, but there are all sorts of new things scattered about. Are you excited? I am. It's good stuff.

**In order to make this easier for me, I've taken down the chapters and am reposting the new ones as I go along. As things are, my documents are a little jumbled (with all the new chapters), and sometimes FF gets a little confused when I post a lot of chapters at once. One chapter winds up in place of another and so forth. **

**As I'm posting, ****I'm still working on this extension****, (mostly closer to the end) but I couldn't replace any early chapters and leave the entire story posted, because new events don't mesh with the old flow. New events need new resolutions. So, feel free to read as I go along, and that way the repost won't be such a load for you either. Chapter updates may happen as often as two and three times daily as I get everything sorted out.**

**Disclaimer and warnings:**

_This story has several graphic scenes of violence and sex, a bit of language, and material that will have you running off screaming madly through the night._

_I don't own all of these characters. Some of them were created by Lewis Carroll, others belong to American McGee. But yes, some actually do belong to me._

_I created the depth of this story's plot, but not the base ideas. Those belong to American McGee and Lewis Carroll._

* * *

**Alice's Awakening**

_Wake up __Alice__. It's all been a dream._

"Let the jury consider their verdict," the king said, for about the twentieth time that day.

"No no!" said the Queen. "Sentence first – verdict afterwards."

"Stuff and nonsense!" said Alice loudly. "The _idea_ of having the sentence first."

"Hold your tongue!" said the Queen, turning purple.

"I won't!" said Alice.

"Off with her head!" the Queen shouted at the top of her voice.

Nobody moved.

"Who cares for _you_?" said Alice (she had grown to her full size by this time). "You're nothing but a pack of cards!"

At this the whole pack rose up into the air and came flying down upon her; she gave a little scream, half of fright and half of anger, and tried to beat them off, and found herself lying on the bank, with her head in the lap of her sister, who was gently brushing away some dead leaves that had fluttered down from the trees upon her face.

"Wake up, Alice dear!" said her sister. "Why, what a long sleep you've had!"

"Oh, I've had such a curious dream!" said Alice.

And she told her sister, as well as she could remember them, all these strange adventures of hers that you have just been reading about; and when she had finished her sister kissed her and said: "It was a curious dream, dear, certainly; but now run in to your tea: it's getting late."

So Alice got up and ran off, thinking while she ran, as well as she might, what a wonderful dream it had been.

But her sister sat still just as she had left her, leaning her head on her hand, watching the setting sun, and thinking of little Alice and all her wonderful Adventures, till she too began dreaming after a fashion, and this was her dream:–

First, she dreamed about little Alice herself: once again the tiny hands were clasped upon her knee, and the bright eager eyes were looking up into hers – she could hear the very tones of her voice, and see that queer little toss of her head to keep back the wandering hair that _would_ always get into her eyes – and still as she listened, or seemed to listen, the whole place around her became alive with the strange creatures of her little sister's dream.

Lastly, she pictured to herself how this same little sister of hers would, in the after-time, be herself a grown woman; and how she would keep, through all her riper years, the simple and loving heart of her childhood; and how she would gather about her other little children, and make their eyes bright and eager with many a strange tale, perhaps even with the dream of Wonderland of long ago; and how she would feel with all their simple sorrows, and find pleasure in all their simple joys, remembering her own child-life, and the happy summer days.

_And though the shadow of a sigh_

_May tremble through the story,_

_For "happy summer days" gone by,_

_And vanish'd summer glory –_

_It shall not touch with breath of bale,_

_The pleasance of our fairy tale…._

* * *

_Selection is abridged and is taken from the final pages of **Alice's Adventures in Wonderland** by Lewis Carroll._

_Poetry is from **Through the Looking Glass** by Lewis Carroll. _


	2. Chapter 1

_**(A/N):** If you just got a chapter update for this, feel free to go back a chapter and have a look at the notes there. This is the new extended version I was promising, and more info about it has been placed at the beginning. _

* * *

_Don't you mess with a little girl's dream, 'cause she's liable to grow up mean…_

_- Poe, singer/songwriter(Control)_

**Behind Sanity**

**Chapter One**

**1**

The closet was old and smelled as if it had housed a dying rat. Similarly, the whole establishment smelled of this horrible stench. The odor of rotting rodent death, along with the smells of blood and urine, flooded the stone prison as if it was a cistern. One could clearly tell that there were much more pleasant places on earth – places where humans were not sitting in corners of tiny cells as they waited for their own bodies to rot. This dreadful place, Rutledge Institute, had been established in 1792, in Daresbury, Cheshire, and though the year was now 1864, few changes had been made since the opening.

Rutledge Private Clinic and Asylum, as it was formally called, was slowly adjusting to the new regulations of patient treatment, but no more at a time than it was forced by law. Not so many years ago, it was no one's idea to consider that those fragile people of lesser mental stability were truly _human beings_. There was no way to control them; no way to get through to them. They were all viewed as demon-possessed, treated like animals except by those select few doctors and nurses who thought themselves to have the gift: the power to heal – but few had actually succeeded. Rutledge's had employed only a handful of such physicians and caretakers over the years, and so it was safe to say that as a general rule, this basic opinion was held as the standard: people who could reason no better than animals _were_ animals. No one person – no matter how gifted – could change this common idea, despite any _new_ type of regulation pressured upon Rutledge's by the hierarchy. Kindness and decency relied only on a certain few.

Fate would have it that Nurse D. was one of those rare ones.

Elisa Duncan, with her tall thin frame, headed down one of the cool stone corridors. Her long plain dress brushed the floor, collecting loose dust. _What a dreadfully dim place this is_, she thought now, and had been thinking for quite some time. Oh, how this caring young nurse wished she could fill the hospital with something bright-colored or flowered to give these people some sign of hope! She, herself, thought it might help, but the superintendent and his board would not allow it. "_It would be harsh reality," _he had said. There was no hope for these victims of mental torment, and that was just God's truth. Therefore, nothing was ever improved. The hospital hallways were still covered with the same pale, pink, dirty wallpaper coming loose at the ceiling and splitting down the walls to reveal the cold, brown brick beneath. The poor nurse had become part of Rutledge's establishment only a few years ago – a hopeful young thing – just to be told that there was _no_ hope for the poor, sad, and deserted ones – the ones with no families or love. Elisa's mother had ministered here before her, so in truth, Elisa had spent most of her life here. When she'd grown, she'd devoted her life to this hospital, and she'd not let her devotion be misplaced.

That was why she opened the closet.

Inside the dark, musty space were stacks of grimy boxes containing the confiscated belongings of patients constrained to the asylum. Their property had been taken from them when they had begun their lives at Rutledge's and had not been seen for years by anyone. No one cared to remember that the belongings were there or that the items had owners. But Elisa did; Elisa was different. Perhaps she could bring the patients a little bit of joy – and perhaps a little sanity – though she was beginning to feel that she was losing her own.

She set out peering through the faintly marked boxes, taking the time to gather a collection of items. She then headed down a dreary hall to present the belongings to their respected owners, making sure that nothing she sought to return was rough around the edges.

**2**

The dark, stone ceiling was the same day by day. This was, without doubt, _truth_, because if it was ever different, _she_ would have known. Nothing ever changed about that drab ceiling, except on nights like this when the lightning would strike outside the room's small, singular window and reflect shadowy patterns from the teeming rain. At least there was a little variation then – a little _chaos_.

Laying in the darkness, staring and motionless she was – the girl with the distraught, sullen look and the large intense eyes of emerald that always seemed open, even in sleep, watching everything around her. She rarely moved; rarely spoke – to anyone other than herself – only stirring when she was made to. Otherwise, she was fairly unmovable. No one would have ever guessed what was going on inside her head at any given moment, but at this particular time when the ceiling above her was lit so randomly with the storm's disorder, there was a very smooth train of thought going through her mind.

_One, two, buckle my shoe. One, two, buckle my shoe. One, two, buckle my shoe. _

It continued on like this without ceasing and without her recognition. The words calmed her; the crashing thunder did not disturb her. Neither did she flinch when a dim ray of light from the hall about an inch wide and growing steadily fell into the tiny cell with the leaky ceiling, parting the darkness ever so harshly.

**3**

As the door swung open slowly beneath her hand, Elisa could see that the girl in cell 213 was lying on the bed. She always stayed there, as if the mattress was the only thing in existence and she would fall off into an abyss if she removed herself from it. The girl had no great options, but she never left the bed unless she was made to. She just lay there, under one sheet and atop the other, wide-eyed and alert. The girl's name was Alice Liddell, and she had been within Rutledge's walls for nearly three years.

Nurse D. remembered the day Alice was admitted, and she remembered it well. The girl had been eleven and healthy-looking with rosy cheeks plump with baby fat, soft eyelashes and long hair, turned bright auburn by the sun. Alice had every appearance of a normal, well-reared young girl, except for one thing: she'd been admitted to Rutledge's, and in a comatose state.

Mute on a stretcher, head bandaged, strapped down, young Alice was brought in, admitted by her sister and only surviving relative, Wendy Madison. The sister didn't step foot in Rutledge's until several days later to fill out the papers. She'd brought her husband with her, a nice-looking blond man – although he was curiously stitched and bandaged on his arms, his face, and walked with a crutch. Elisa didn't ask questions; that was for the doctors to do. It was _her _job to take care of Alice.

Alice had been a peculiar girl from the start, even in her unnatural sleep. Perhaps one night she would lay flat on the mattress and sleep exactly eight hours as soundly as a babe. Other times were not so natural. Sometimes she would move about in her sleep. Alice may have half of her body on the floor, half on the bed. Also, often times, she would arch her body on the mattress so that her feet and her head supported all her weight. As if she was sleeping on a bed of feathers, she could remain in such a position for over ten hours. The orderlies would have to strap the girl down with leather belts until eventually she would lay flat again. There were even days when she opened her eyes in sleep, but the doctors soon realized that this too was false. It did not mean she was awake. However, one thing young Alice _never_ did when awake was speak or make any sound at all. This was how Elisa and the others knew when she had truly awoken. Silent in life, noisy in sleep. That was the girl's pattern.

Nurse D. knew that, below Alice's unblemished face, beneath the girl's clothes, rested the scars – the scars from horrible burns. Years of healing, but the scars were still marked on her body. One could trace the disfigurements on Alice's chest, across her stomach, and down her legs. On her back it was worse, where scars looked as if she'd been lashed with a whip of fire than been scorched by free-moving flame.

Knowing all this, Elisa had still been pleased with how the wounds had healed in time without proper medical care. This had seemed to be the only thing the poor girl had going for her. That, at least, was what Elisa had thought – until the night of the screaming.

Ten nurses and orderlies must have been roused by the horrible sounds, never mind the patients what had awoken and begun screaming as well. Elisa had rushed to Alice's cell with her key, followed closely by the rest, all in agitated confusion to see what the problem could be.

The girl was on the bed, no doubt she would be, but writhing in agony, screaming as loud as she could scream, making the most terrible noise that could ever be heard. The lanterns were brought in and Alice could be seen, large eyes strained wide and bloodshot, tears streaming from them. Her fingers and toes curled, her mouth was wide and twisted in her yells. The girl was experiencing excruciating pain, something she'd never reacted to before, but what could be causing the trouble? Quite soon it was apparent.

The night dress that they'd put Alice into was soaked with sweat – and blood. Removing the gown, they found that all of Alice's old wounds had burst open, flowing blood and ooze as if they were new. It was unexplainable after the healing period, but there it was. It was dealt with accordingly and took to the wee hours of the morning to get the wounds dressed. But once they'd begun to fix her, the girl was quiet and still, only sobbing lowly as the stinging tonics were applied.

Finally, when it was done, a tiny voice had floated up to Elisa's ears. She wasn't even sure she'd heard it, but felt the need to check.

"_What was that_?" she asked, leaning closer to Alice.

"_Water,_" said the tiny voice again. "_I'm thirsty_."

The horrible experience had actually awoken the girl enough to make her speak. But Elisa would not ask questions. Immediately she instructed an orderly to fetch water – but when it arrived, Alice refused it.

It had been two and a half years since that day that Alice had begun to speak again, and so had been the girl's behavior pattern ever since. She asked, and then refused. She would never accept what was offered, and one never knew what she was thinking.

Her mind was indeed a tangle box.

Since then though, the scars had healed once again, this time in the most unusual fashion. There was hardly any discoloration, as with normal burn scars that Elisa had seen before. Alice's skin remained a constant pale throughout, only buckling in a few places where the skin had resealed itself. Despite such awful misfortune, the melancholy child was, perhaps, lucky still.

Now, in the cold of the room, the nurse did not let the light shine across the girl's eyes for fear of their empty stare. Instead, she opened the door only enough to let the light fall across the fourteen-year-old girl's neck and chin up to her nose, keeping her eyes on Alice in case of any sudden movement. The orderlies and nurses had learned not to be precarious around this patient – no matter how peaceful she seemed.

"Alice?" Elisa called sweetly into the room.

It was the only sweet thing that had graced this cell in a while, and the walls bounced it back and forth off each other as if they were trying to keep the lovely sound from escaping.

Elisa received no reply and decided to try again.

"Alice, I have something for you."

There was a moment of harsh dead silence. The nurse pushed herself to listen closely as she saw Alice's lips, cherry with the cool air, begin to move.

"Put it on the table and get out," the girl said hastily in a hushed voice.

Nurse D. made her way carefully into the room, despite the girl's request, and stopped close by the open door.

"Wouldn't you like to see what it is?" she asked, in hopes that the girl would show some interest.

Alice said nothing. She refused to move in the slightest. Her cold stare continued towards the ceiling and Elisa could only hear her breathing at rhythmic intervals. The nurse walked closer to the bed, her footsteps making loud disturbances in the silence.

She stopped a foot from the mattress and caught sight of Alice's eerie eyes. The large, green orbs still stared towards the ceiling in an uninterrupted gaze, as though she was not even aware that Elisa was standing beside her, but the nurse knew differently. Elisa stared into Alice's unworldly orbs for several moments. Such eyes Nurse D. had never seen! They were so empty, yet if one looked deeply, traces of unknown torment could be found.

In a quick instant that Elisa was unprepared for, the girl broke her stare from the ceiling and looked straight at the thin nurse with an unfeeling expression. Elisa gulped heavily at the intensity of the gaze. They stared on for several moments, neither one moving. Alice finally gathered a deep breath and exhaled deeply through her nostrils so that they flared noisily.

Elisa was careful not to move too quickly when she finally gathered her courage to speak for fear of frightening the patient with her suddenness. Then again, this was Alice; she was unmovable.

"You have very interesting eyes," the nurse commented. "I've always thought so. So large and green…"

Alice cut her off immediately.

"Who said you could look at them?" she asked, moving no muscle but her mouth. Elisa stared for another moment to make sure the girl would blink. She found herself satisfied on this point.

"I found this in your box," Elisa said, never taking her eyes off Alice but pulling an object from behind her back.

The toy was white, or at least used to be, with traces of sooty dirt. One of the button eyes was missing and the remaining eye dangled from a thread. A leg was ripped at the stitches and the velvet fur was barren in patches, rubbed away. The entire backside was toasted a light brown.

When Alice laid her eyes on the rabbit in the burgundy vest, a strange glow seemed to emit from her. Her eyes followed the toy everywhere it went. They never left it even as Elisa lowered it and propped it up against the resting girl. Alice said nothing. Elisa didn't know how to react, so she simply took a universal approach: she smiled.

"Just thought you might like to have it back," she said. "I see no harm in it."

She began making her way out of the room then, never taking her eyes off Alice, who never took her eyes off the rabbit. The door shut and there was a click, which sealed Alice back into her cold, stone-walled prison behind the door with the single slit window.

**4**

Alice stared down at the white rabbit propped against her for a long while. It didn't move. _Nothing_ moved except the patterns of light on the ceiling, but Alice had forgotten about that. There was complete silence surrounding her. Screams of horror from the halls found their way through some of the cracks, but Alice was not disturbed. She was used to this disorder (but in her mind, it wasn't _dis_order at all). At this moment, she was interested only in the rabbit.

The two stared at each other with empty eyes for several minutes, locked in a silent standoff as hunter and prey. Then, ever so slowly, Alice reached behind the doll – carefully enough so that it would not notice, of course – and jerked it up by both of its ears in a motion as though she needed to restrain it immediately or it might escape her. She held it above her face and looked into its singular, dangling black eye. She closed her eyes and, taking a deep breath, pulled the stuffed plaything to her chest tightly. To watch her, who would have known the truth of her actions? Could they have guessed that she remembered the plaything at all? Or was it simply that she recognized this stuffed animal as one who it was safe to love – one who could not judge her. An onlooker may have never been able to guess, but with her eyes closed, old memories began pouring back to the girl.

Seven years old, Alice had experienced something that she supposed no other child ever had or would. It was like seeing a pixie; only children with special innocence could experience it. In the same way, Alice had seen _Wonderland_. She'd fallen into it by accident, supposing it was her curiosity that led to her tumble down the rabbit hole and into the world of curious reality where down was up and backward was sideways. This was a world consumed by madness, yet she found it quite pleasant as a whole, despite her incomprehension of it all. Strangely, _there – _and unlike anywhere else now – she felt somewhat at home.

She'd told her parents about her trip to Wonderland; her mother first, her father second. They were the only ones who had ever understood the imaginative girl. They may not have believed all her stories, but they went along with her "delightful imagination" and listened to her fantastic tales of adventure.

On her eighth birthday, her parents gave her a stuffed white rabbit doll, just like the white rabbit she often spoke of that was so concerned with time, to help take her to Wonderland whenever she wanted, since it was such a wonderful place, but the childhood token and her innocence were all lost in one night alone.

_That dreadful night…_

The flames were so high and the heat was intense. Alice had felt like a kernel of corn ready to pop over an open hearth. The freezing night had soothed her flesh, but she was discontented. She had wanted to get back into the house. She'd screamed for her parents the whole night through – screamed for them to get out. She was trying to head back into the house, despite the cold of the snow on her bare feet, but her sister would not let her. _Wendy_ would not let her back inside. The older girl said that Alice was having a fight with sanity. No; Alice had been perfectly sane. She knew exactly what she was doing and she knew what going back into that house had meant. She was ten years old then, and that is quite old enough to know what one wants, in her opinion. She knew that she wanted to go back into that flaming house. She wanted to have seen her parents die, and to know if she might have stopped it. If not, she would have died by their side. Life was not the same without them. But no, now she was in this place…

Straight from the fire, Alice had passed nearly a year before she'd been brought to this place. _Rutledge Institute_._ Rutledge Private Clinic and Asylum._ This hell didn't come about until after her parents' funeral – not until after her _second_ visit to Wonderland. This visit was more a glimpse of a place she once remembered, but she did find out more than she wanted to know about its transformation.

Oh, how it had changed! Its pleasantness had melted away and she wasn't sure why, but one thing was certain: this visit led her to a harsh reality. The house fire that took her parents was no accident. She knew, and no one else would believe even if she told, that the Red Queen had arranged it. The tyrant had murdered her parents.

Alice had defied Wonderland's Queen such a long time ago that she had brought this torture upon Alice! This thought had had two and a half years to sit, festering in her mind until one thing was sure. She would get revenge for this plight – and it would _not_ be sweet.

Alice stared down at the rabbit now, looking deep into his hollow eye. She had _missed_ him. It had been quite some time since they had been together. She had needed his company. He was her only friend.

"A riddle for you, my pet," said the brooding girl quietly. "If green, blue, and yellow are the colors of sanity, what colors do _I_ wear?"

The stuffed rabbit in her hands looked back at her with its empty button eye. The girl's eyes were empty as well. Slowly though, she began to smile in dark humor, her vibrant irises flashing to life.

"Silly beast!" said the girl. "You say I wear black, but black is _not_ a color!"

Her shrill laughter rang about the walls, echoing down the eerie passage and making several patients in other cells shriek in terror. Her laughter was truly an awful sound. It was the only thing worse than her screams. The sound was as the mocking cry of a crow as it was being pulled into death and down toward hell, but this was not a sound heard often down these halls. Her laughter came in silence – _with price_.

Quieting the girl immediately, the door to her cell was pushed open forcefully and Alice's darkness was interrupted for the second time on this stormy night. As immediately as the door had opened noisily, the girl's every expression dropped from her face, leaving her to sit in the dark, straight-faced, as though she had made no sound or that she even remembered her laughter or her joke. This time when the heavy door opened, it let in a face not as friendly as the first.

"Mealtime, you malnourished pawn!" announced Hildy as she entered, working her large bulk around the tight cell.

Hildy was the muscled counterpart of the petite nurses. She spent her days delivering food and medicine to those _hard to manage_ patients, and one could tell by her wrinkled, drooping face that she would much rather be elsewhere. One could not say that the woman did not have a sense of duty though, and since she would never have luck attracting a husband, she was just as well to stay in Rutledge's dark spaces.

Alice stared back at Hildy blankly for a few moments, holding the rabbit in her lap. Hildy had never seemed to like Alice, though the girl couldn't decide why. She was truly no different from any other patient here, yet when Hildy entered her room, Alice could sense the distaste. This didn't seem bother the girl though. She simply turned her attention back to the stuffed plaything on her lap.

"You're a pretty thing," she said to the rabbit lovingly, pressing each of the tiny buttons on its vest gingerly. "Much nicer looking than Hildy… But Shhhh! You mustn't say I told you! It could get us into trouble!"

"Quit your rambling, Alice," the nurse ordered sternly from the door.

"Why don't you like me, Hildy?" Alice asked innocently, looking her way as she wheeled in a noisy old cart. "What have I never done to you?"

Hildy rolled her eyes, refusing to look at the insanity-laden girl and her piercing green eyes.

"What have you '_ever_' done to me, Alice. It's '_ever_', not '_never_'. You should have paid closer attention to your lessons…when you were well enough to receive them."

"Either way, you still haven't answered my question," Alice reminded, to Hildy's angry glare.

A small smile crossed the girl's lips. She knew what she'd said. It had been quite intentional. Hildy took the girl's mind for granted – just like all the rest. She may have had a skewed sense of reality, but she wasn't an idiot.

"Come over here," Hildy instructed, standing beside the tray she had set up. "Eat this before you waste away!"

"I'm not hungry," Alice pouted quietly, not budging or even glancing at the food. Instead, she straightened the doll's burgundy vest.

"Refusing?" demanded Hildy, hands on her wide hips.

Alice said nothing, now toying with the rabbit's ears.

"If that's how you want it then," said Hildy. "I suppose it's off to _the crib_ with you. Let's go."

Hildy walked to the bedside and gripped Alice's arm roughly to jerk her up, but just as suddenly, Alice clamped her own hand around Hildy's wrist.

"No," said Alice quietly but firmly. "Not that."

The crib – it wasn't among Alice's favorite places, but it served its purpose. When inside it, Alice never made a sound. Never complained. And that was precisely what they used it for. It was called the _crib_ because that's exactly what it looked like – a baby's crib. It was just long enough for a grown person, but once lain inside, a long door of wooden bars was placed over them, making it impossible to sit up or move much at all.

The crib was the only effective method of punishment anyone had ever found to use against Alice, and they were not afraid to threaten her with it; though, while in the crib, Alice's wounds were known to ooze again, even now after these three years.

"Get yourself up to eat then," Hildy said, wrenching from Alice's grip, her wrist red. The girl was surprisingly strong for her age and size.

Alice finally decided to comply. She slowly raised herself from the messy bed and lowered her toes to the floor. Her feet were bare and the stone chilled her, but she didn't give it much attention. Her blue and white dress – which she insisted on wearing everyday – existed from when she was seven years old. Now, being fourteen, it didn't fit as it once had. The dress had grown overly tight and short on her. The skirt reached to her knees and the waist band now came just below her small breasts. The sleeves were shorter and tighter than needed and it looked somewhat uncomfortable on her, but Alice didn't seem to notice. She had maintained her childlike figure over time. This was a reason she seldom felt hungry. If she ate, she might pop a stitch.

Alice carried the rabbit with her to the tray and sat down in front of it and didn't raise her eyes to Hildy at all. Picking up the smooth and shiny spoon, she looked at her own reflection in it and then gazed down at the plate. Green mush covered it, complemented by white mush and one piece of browning apple. Some pudding was there, strangely colored, and beside the ensemble was a glass of watery orange juice. Alice picked up the juice and, pretending to take a drink, ran the glass under her nose. She could smell the medication swimming in it. She took a small sip and set it back down.

"I'm finished," she said,

"What?" Hildy demanded. "No you aren't! It is my job to make sure you eat. You _will_ eat everything on that plate!"

"I told you, I'm really not hungry," Alice insisted, and gripping the rabbit by the ears, began to rise.

"Look!" Hildy began screaming, slamming her fist on the cart in her anger. "This is not your little _Wonderland_ where you can do as you please! You are under our care and what we say, you will do and … What exactly_ is_ this?!" she asked, grabbing the stuffed bunny up by the leg. Alice turned abruptly and gave a straight-faced, menacing stare that made even Hildy a bit uneasy.

"Why do you have this child's toy? Are you a child, Alice?"

"No," said the girl quietly.

"Then this is nothing you need to be messing with!" she said, holding up the rabbit by its already torn leg.

"Be that as it may, I'd like to have it back now, please," Alice said calmly, reaching.

Hildy looked at the doll a moment, then at Alice's outstretched hand.

"Did I hit a soft spot?" Hildy taunted. "Getting a bit touchy, aren't we?"

"I'd like to have the rabbit back _now_," Alice said forcefully, pushing her hand out further.

The rabbit dangled helplessly in front of her, silent, unable to scream for help or defend himself. Hildy just looked down at it and then a smirk crossed her face.

"No," she said, pushing the girl's arm away roughly.

But Alice would not be pushed aside so easily. She thrust her arm back toward Hildy in an effort to grab the rabbit from her grasp.

"I said NO!" Hildy yelled and raised her arm, connecting the back of her hand with Alice's cheek.

Alice felt the impact, but only half the pain. She slowly turned her face back toward Hildy with no expression. There was silence for a few moments and a welt under Alice' left eye began to grow visible.

"Now sit down and eat your dinner," Hildy instructed. "After you're done, maybe you can have the rabbit back. In the meantime, I'll be taking it with me."

Hildy, obviously thinking she'd won, brushed past Alice then and headed for the cell door.

Alice watched her, eyes full of rage, blood pounding at her temples. The heated breath rushed in and out of her until her fists clenched, short fingernails digging into her palm. Then, she let go of what little control she had managed to reserve.

"Like hell you will," she muttered and hurriedly walked toward the rusty cart where sat the tray. The shiny spoon gleamed up at her as lightning struck the ground outside. She had every intention of taking the spoon, but all at once her eyes rested on a utensil on the tray that she had not seen before.

A knife was there, just as shiny as the spoon, but looking as though it was more willing to give Alice aid. It _wanted_ to help. That was its sole purpose for being there. It may have seemed odd that this sharp object was here, but no such thing occurred to Alice. Without more thought, Alice took the handle of the blade in her hand, feeling the smooth, dark wood against the curve of her palm.

In a roar of rage, Alice burst at Hildy, knife posed in a slanted stabbing position, and forced it down with all of her power into Hildy's tricep. There was a cry of pain as the meat of the nurse's arm was punctured, but it was not noticed over the rage coming from Alice's mouth.

Alice pulled the bloody knife from the woman's arm and again plunged it deep into the flesh of her forearm – blood covering Hildy and Alice both and spilling over the floor. The evil-eyed girl continued to gouge with the blood-covered blade, pulling up deeper flaps of skin until finally the bunny fell to the floor and it was immediately scooped up by the girl as several large orderlies barged into the room, having been alerted by the screams.

"You little _bitch_!" Hildy spat, holding her bloody, aching arm.

The vile knife was dropped by Alice, landing silently on the stone, and no one save for Alice herself even saw the weapon. But there was blood, glistening and wet, standing in a pool on the floor. One of the orderlies led Hildy down to the infirmary. Three other orderlies approached Alice slowly, who was sitting on the floor in the corner, rocking back and forth, her head tucked between her knees, clutching the rabbit so tightly that she might rip the stuffing out herself.

"Alice, why have you done this?" asked one of the men.

But Alice would not answer. She was muttering something under her breath and making strange noises and gasps for air. Her whole body began to shake.

"Should we just pick her up and take her down the hall?" asked one.

"Wait," the first one said to the others. "She's saying something..."

He stooped to the floor, leaning closer to her to comprehend.

"What happened, Alice?" he asked, but the girl answered not, only continuing to murmur away in her tears.

"What is she saying?"

The orderlies then all became very quiet at once and listened carefully. Under the girl's whimpers and sobs, they heard her repeated words:

_"Follow the white rabbit. Follow the white rabbit. Follow the white rabbit. Follow the white rabbit"_

Alice continued on unceasingly. The noise from the room had been heard, and throughout the halls other patients began to panic in their cells, not physically hurting but their weak minds told them they were. A clatter of soles from polished shoes came down the hallway toward the cell, and when the man finally reached it, the orderlies had not yet touched the girl.

One orderly felt a presence standing in the doorway and he turned. His expression showed that he was awaiting instruction from the one there. The girl's doctor would instruct them. If anyone knew what to do, it was him.

"What should be done with her, Doctor Wilson?" one asked.

Heironymous Q. Wilson looked down towards Alice, seeing how she as tightly balled into a corner and slowly rocking herself, muttering, squeezing the stuffed bunny tightly in the crook of her arm. Wilson had seen the blood on Hildy when he met her in the hall, and he didn't have to be told the story to know that Alice had caused it. He'd been her doctor for two years and had been able to do nothing with her. He'd given up on any hope that he could help her, actually. As of next week, his post would be given to Dr. James Elliot. Let_ him_ deal with the wretched girl then. As to what was to be done with her now, they could have known as well as he did what it was – even Alice herself.

"I suppose we have no choice but to take her to the crib. Get her up…and take the doll," the doctor ordered, leaving the room himself and waiting for the orderlies to bring Alice along behind him.

They laid the girl within the wooden bars when they'd reached the empty cell that held nothing but the crib, and they closed her up. Alice was still as the bars surrounded her. She couldn't move even if she'd wanted. And here she would be left. She'd be left here until she stopped struggling, until she stopped screaming, and until she was just as she had been before Elisa had entered into her darkness that day.

Doctor Wilson returned to his casebook to write his last entry about Alice Liddell.


	3. Chapter 2

****

Behind Sanity

**Chapter Two**

**1**

_Everything I can think of, I have done. Treatments, remedies, disciplines, and pleasures – nothing makes a difference. Alice speaks when and about what she wants, recites poetry on a seeming whim., draws pictures at her own pleasure. She does nothing at my command, instruction, entreaty or request. She's become very willful, and nothing I do or say makes a difference._

_I truly do, however, become immersed in her fantastic tales of Wonderland. Sometimes I feel that I too will go tumbling down that dark rabbit hole. While I know that is impossible, I still await the day when she claims victory over the Red Queen and her minions, when Wonderland will be restored. Perhaps by this Alice will cure herself, regain her balance, and leave this place of her own volition._

_Sometimes she appears to be so close, but at other times I'm certain that it will never happen and she'll spend the rest of her life housed behind Rutledge's gaunt brown walls…with me._

_- Heironymous Q. Wilson_

_Rutledge Private Clinic and Asylum Casebook, 13 August 1864_

**2**

_**Three years later…**_

Wendy had forged her husband's name to the last of the faded parchment. There had been weeks of meeting with doctors and making arrangements at her home, but her toils and days of heartache would prove fruitful now. It had been so long of dreaming of finishing this out, and finally today was the day. She was, after six years, finally going to be with her sister again. Her baby sister was coming home! Alice was well, or at least, was well enough to be taken from the _clinic_ – as Wendy always forced herself to refer to it. By her doctor's admittance, Alice was ready to go back into the world – to live a normal life.

Wendy Madison breathed a sigh and tugged at the fingers of her gloves nervously as the nurse across the desk reviewed the papers. She wondered suddenly if the woman could tell that her husband hadn't actually signed and that it had been Wendy's own hand pretending, but finally the nurse looked up at her and smiled.

"You are the sister of Alice Liddell, Mrs. Madison?" the nurse asked, saying it for no reason better than for conversation's sake. Still, it struck a cord with Wendy.

She smiled meekly, knowing full well she hadn't been able to give herself that title for years – visits had always been left as fleeting thoughts – but there was not a day that passed that she didn't think of Alice in some way.

"Yes. I haven't seen her in _so_ very long. I'm very excited, as you can imagine," Wendy said, brushing a few strands of red hair away from her cheek that had fallen loose from under her hat. She'd not secured it properly because of this morning's rush to get to Rutledge's, but she didn't care much how she looked today. "The doctor has assured me – oh! Elliot is his name – that she's sorted out through her troubles. He says that over the past few months, Alice has made more progress than he's ever seen."

The nurse remained quiet, smiling back at the pretty red-haired lady, though perhaps it was only out of humor – or pity. The nurse was a large woman with brown hair pulled up tightly in a bun behind her head. She was not an attractive woman – decidedly ugly and worn actually – but Wendy was not there to judge appearances. Even with that recognition, the way the nurse looked at Wendy made her a tad bit uncomfortable. As soon as Alice was with her, she would not waste a moment lingering here.

"Oh! I'm sorry. Do you know Alice personally?" Wendy asked, suddenly feeling rude for not asking about association.

"I know all of the female patients, marm," the nurse said, looking down over the papers. "I've been head nurse for nigh thirty years."

Mrs. Madison smiled, though in her mind, she thought it was an awful truth to have to admit. To be a prisoner in these walls was one thing, but to be here of her own volition?

"I assure you, we cannot _wait_ to get Alice out of here," the bulky nurse said suddenly.  
Wendy looked back at her quizzically, her excitement fading suddenly. Why would she say such a thing?

"I beg your pardon?" she inquired, suddenly feeling cold.

The nurse smiled sheepishly, ready to withdraw any doubt her statement may have given to the patient's sister.

"I mean, she doesn't belong here anymore," she said with a swift nod. "She's quite well now."

"I…see," said Wendy, not really sure if she truly understood or not. Nonetheless, she forced a smile. There was no sense in worrying herself or feeling anything other than joy. Not only was it foolish, it was simply not like her.

The nurse lowered her voice then, leaning forward just a bit across the desk. Instinctually, Wendy recoiled slightly from the ugly woman. The nurse didn't seem to notice – or either she was used to it.

"Just between us, marm," she said. "I've never seen such improvement. Most patients spend their whole lives here. I won't lie; Alice and I have had a few rows, but the girl hardly even seems to remember it anymore. She's like a completely new person, marm."

Wendy smiled at this. She knew her sister was a strong one. She'd always believed that dear Alice would defeat whatever demon had ensnared her and be able to return to the world she belonged in.

Hearing a set of footsteps approaching, Wendy looked anxiously behind her down one of the halls to see if Alice was yet on her way, but it was only a passing doctor. He gave her a cordial nod of recognition before he disappeared.

"I'm sure she'll be here in a few moments," the ugly nurse assured her. "Alice is usually quite good at being on time."

"Oh," said Wendy with a nod and a nervous smile, turning back to the desk and clutching her bag nervously in her lap.

As she waited, she busied herself looking at the three long scars across the nurse's arm – but only because the woman was not watching her do so. The buckles of skin were obviously from puncture wounds, but Wendy had never seen anything quite like them before. They had not been mere scratches. _I wonder what happened_, she thought curiously, but just as she had begun to ponder, she heard footsteps behind her and the nurse lifted her eyes. A short smile touched the nurse's face.

"And here she is," she said.

Wendy turned her head anxiously towards where the footsteps had stopped, a hefty lump in her throat. Standing there across the tile a short distance was a young woman of seventeen with dark auburn hair – tinted fiery red in the light, like her sister – which was pulled back from her face and curled nicely. Her eyes were the same emerald green as they had been in the girl's youth, but they no longer held fearful or violent flashes. They were soft and content now. She was also no longer her malnourished size, but had just a bit of meat in the right places to make her not look so unhealthy; she had been eating at least. Her lips were a pale pink that would have made even a rose envious, yet they bore no smile. She was patted with make-up, and even her cheeks had an ounce of color. She wore a long skirt and jacket, gloves, and carried a piece of old luggage that appeared very light. The girl truly looked as any normal person one might pass on the street and greet 'hello'. She was _normal_. And quite lovely as a young woman.

Wendy rose from her chair without being aware and stood there staring at her lost sister, looking at her through tears of joy.

"Alice," she whispered through her haltered sobs and droplets.

Alice held her stern expression, but Wendy did not feel at all unsure. The doctors had told her that it was fine to treat Alice as any other person. She could be hugged and kissed and spoken to freely. The joyous sister outstretched her arms without hesitation, pulling Alice in.

**3**

The girl stood for moments in the embrace, while her sister – older but still so much the same as she'd been years ago – cried quietly on her shoulder. What was this feeling inside her? Was it some forgotten notion that she might have once known? Was it a feeling of contentment, or perhaps an unsettling nervousness?

At some moment in the past, Alice might have felt anger or prolonged feelings of abandonment, but she felt none of that now. It was as if the time between their ages did not exist and the years had not passed at all. Wendy was reading a book under a tree and Alice was dozing off. They could pick up right where they had left things.

Alice Liddell, no longer a child, raised her arms and pressed her hands very lightly to her sister's back. Wendy squeezed her tightly.

"I am so glad to see you, my sister," she whispered. "I'm not letting you go again. You're going to be happy now. I promise."

**4**

During her months of recovery and observation, Alice was allowed to go outside past Rutledge's gaunt brown walls, but was not allowed to leave the grounds. Now, having finally passed the wrought iron gates that announced the institute on the hill, she felt that the sun was brighter and the air was fresher. It was like leaning out of a coffin after being buried alive. Nothing was a sweeter relief.

A cab drawn by a pair of brown horses was waiting past the gate, and Alice did not have to be told that it was waiting for her. The sisters were helped inside by a footman and then the clomping of hooves made a rhythmic musical accompaniment to Alice first viewing of the neighborhood in six years.

Some things had changed, but very much was still the same. The trees looked like they always did in autumn, though there were a few new ones along the street now. Newer houses had sprung up, but the old ones were still there – some needing repair, some with fresh paint.

It was silent inside the carriage as Alice looked about. Beside her, Wendy tried to keep control of her emotions as she clutched her sister's hand. Alice hardly felt the grip, much too fascinated with refreshing herself. To see that things were not so terribly different lifted her spirits.

When the cab halted on the street and the door was opened, Alice found herself staring through it motionlessly, frozen halfway between stepping out of the carriage and sliding back inside. Her eyes widened at the structure before her. Strangely, she hadn't seemed to notice it until now. She stood in awe – gazing up at the house she had lived in as a little girl; the same house that had burned to the ground before her very eyes on that cold night all those years ago.

"You rebuilt it," she muttered in disbelief as the footman was finally able to urge her from the horse-drawn car.

"Yes. I thought it quite a shame for it to be gone," Wendy explained, gazing up at the house with affection. "I wanted it the way mum and father would have wanted it to be. It's home. _Our_ home."

Alice was warmed by the thought, despite the cool breeze that blew against her.

"I live here with Tommy and my little girl," Wendy went on.

Alice felt a sudden shock run a course through her.

"Little girl?"

Wendy's face fell suddenly.

"Did you not get any of my letters?"

Alice was quiet. Her gaze dropped toward the ground a moment before she was able to look at Wendy again.

"I don't know," she admitted, her voice hushed.

The girl could see through Wendy's eyes that her anger was flaring against the staff at Rutledge's, but it faded away when she saw the uncertainty and despair in her Alice's own eyes.

"But it's alright!" Wendy said cheerily. "We have all the time in the world to catch up to each other again! Her name is Morgan. She's five years old." Then, stating a notion that she'd thought of every day since the child was born to her: "You know, she looks a lot like you."

"Oh yes?" Alice asked, brightening up a bit.

_But… __Now Wendy has a child?_

Alice supposed that if she had really thought about it, Wendy should have had several children at her age, but Alice would say nothing. One child was enough of a surprise. The truth was apparent to her now. Time had passed.

"She's at the schoolhouse just now," Wendy continued. "Tommy is _out of town_ at the moment." She said this strangely, but then regained her joyful composure. "But that's perfectly all right. I'm just pleased that you're back with me."

Alice nodded with a smile. She was glad to be home as well. She'd never thought she'd be able to return to this place again, yet here it was. How might it have changed?

Her sister led her up the stone steps and to the large front door, at which Alice rubbed her hand across the wood. It _felt_ like she remembered. Wendy laughed lightly in happiness at her sister's examination, but shut it away quickly. She wouldn't wish to discourage Alice by laughing at her. The girl would need time to adjust, and Wendy would allow for it. Turning the key, she opened the door, letting out a rush of stale indoor air. Alice wandered inside immediately, observing silently as she took ginger steps through the house.

Similar furniture had been placed exactly where the old had been. Of course, there were Wendy's own touches to the décor and there were portraits of a different family on the walls, but it was still much like Alice remembered. There was the fireplace in the parlor, and above it was a long looking-glass that reflected the whole room – as if it had always been there.

"Everything looks exactly the same," Alice said in amazement.

"Yes," Wendy said, looking over all her hard work as if for the first time. "I wanted everything to be like it was – just as though nothing happened."

_But something did happen_, thought Alice, but she kept it to herself.

"Come on. I'll show you to your room. You remember how everything was, don't you? So there's no need to show you the rest of the house just now. However, your room is not the same as the one you had. Quite sorry about that."

Wendy led Alice up the stairs to a hall on the second floor and twisted the doorknob of the third room down. The small room opened up in front of her. There were white walls and smooth wooden shelves that bore tiny trinkets that Alice didn't recognize. This was the guest room. She remembered it well from days of her youth.

"I'm sorry it isn't very roomy," said Wendy.

"I've dealt with smaller," Alice said quietly, examining the space.

"I want this to be wonderful for you," Wendy continued, not hearing Alice. "Anything you need, just ask."

Alice did not respond, running her fingers lightly across a bedside table that bore no dust. There had been a table there like this before.

"Would you like to be alone in here to get used to it at all again?"

"I don't suppose it will take much getting used to," Alice said thoughtfully, grateful for the change of scenery. She wouldn't have been happy in her old room. No. Not at all.

Wendy nodded, happy that Alice had apparently made such a smooth transition back into reality.

"I was going to give you your old room, but I thought it might be, well, a bit difficult for you." There was a pause. "Besides, it's Morgan's room now."

"How nice," Alice said with a smile, unsure of what she should say to this. Finally, she set her light and tattered suitcase down beside the bed.

Wendy watched as Alice pressed her hands on the mattress as if checking the softness. The action, however, was unfruitful. Alice's mind was elsewhere.

"Is Tommy still angry?" she asked suddenly.

Wendy felt her face grow hot even though Alice was not facing her. It was true that bloody hatchets could not be buried? Old wounds could not heal? In Wendy's mind, yes they could. In her husband's mind, they could not. But she could not speak for him and she _would_ not.

"I don't know, my dear," she regretted quietly.

Alice did not turn from the bed and did not say a word. A clock chimed once from the hall, announcing two-thirty. Wendy felt a bit of relief at the sound, able to smile again. She could move past this unpleasantness.

"It's time to go get Morgan from the schoolhouse. We always walk home together. You should come."

"Of course," Alice said, turning finally and managing a smile. "I'm a bit due meeting my niece."

**5  
**

Alice received many strange looks from the people at the schoolyard. She recognized only a few of them – Wendy's childhood friends, now with their own children – yet everyone seemed to know who _she_ was and where she had come from. If they didn't, why would they look at her so? Some looked at her with distaste, others with pure curiosity.

The school had not changed. It was still a white building with a single story and a large bell resting atop it. Alice could remember when she, herself, had walked through those doors into class and then walked home with her mother. How sweet it had been…

"Mummy!"

The small voice reached Alice's ears as its owner moved toward where she stood. A fair-haired girl with pigtails came skipping up in a flowered dress. If not for the color of her hair, Alice might have been convinced that it was her own child-self bounding up to them from a portal of the past. Alice looked at the girl with an attentiveness that could not be matched by anything else she'd peered at thus far. She'd never been around children much – save for when she was a child herself. Alice was not sure what she thought, but she was certain that she felt something inside.

"Mum! I made a picture for you today!"

"Hello, darling," Wendy said with as much pride as a good mother should show.

The mother leaned down to her child and looked over the picture that was being presented to her which showed some clouds and birds. Alice watched the example, trying to reminisce on past days.

"Morgan, why don't you say hello to your aunt Alice?"

The young girl raised her eyes to the other woman standing there with her mother, seeming to just realize she was there at all. There was a cautious expression on her face that Alice thought was humorous, but she held in her laugh. Morgan looked Alice up and down – from the hem of her dress to her large green eyes. The girl was in silence for a few moments, but came out of it quickly with a very bold statement.

"Did you just get out of the hospital? That's what everyone says."

Alice closed her eyes with a smile. _May as well humor the child. One never gets to be that innocent again… _

"Yes, I did just get out of a hospital."

"My teacher says hospitals are for very sick people," the child said rapidly. "Not like when you get to stay home from school with a tummy ache or anything, but _very_ sick people!"

"Morgan," Wendy scolded quietly as if Alice wouldn't notice.

"So, you must have been _very_ sick for a_ very_ long time!"

"That's enough, Morgan!" Wendy said abruptly, taking her by the hand as her cheeks turned a shade pinker. "We talked about this. Do you remember?"

Alice just looked on in amusement. Her past in the asylum was not bothersome to her. The important thing was that she was well now. Her niece deserved to understand that.

"It's alright," Alice assured her sister. She leaned down to Morgan's eye level.

"You were really sick then?" the girl asked in the worried tone of the young. "Does it hurt?"

"I'm fine, Morgan," Alice promised. "And you're very right. Hospitals are for sick people. But hospitals are good things, for they make people better."

"The hospital made you better?"

"Mhmm."

Alice smiled at the girl, and realization finally dawned on Morgan's face.

"Hospitals are good," she said with a smile, pulling at one of her own pigtails.

The new aunt straightened herself back up and Wendy smiled on them both, pleased.

"Well, that was a fine introduction. It's best we head home now."

"Oh, mum, can't we stop by the pet store? I want to look at the kitties!" begged Morgan.

"I don't think we have time for that today," Wendy said gently, thinking Alice might simply like to go back home. "We have much to do."

"But you said…!"

"I said I was_ thinking _about it," Wendy said with a tone of finality.

"Please! Oh please, mum!" Morgan pleaded, hopping up and down as she begged.

Though about to reject her daughter's request once again, she closed her mouth and looked toward her sister. Alice tilted her head with curiosity.

"Do you still like cats as well, Alice?"

Alice thought a moment. She had been gone a while, but she definitely remembered what a cat was. That is not a thing one forgets.

"I suppose I do."

"We haven't ever had pets, but – do you think it would help you to have one? I was thinking that it might do you good. I know how attached you were to… " Wendy began, but stopped herself.

Alice opened her mouth to answer, but saw Morgan begin nodding her head furiously to the thought of having a cat, but stopped when her mother looked at her disapprovingly.

"I'm almost certain it would," said Alice confidently.

"Yay! Let's go!" Morgan said, and pulled her mother toward the store down the street.

Passing by, Morgan caught Alice's hand as well.

**6**

The tiny metal bell above the door rang as they came inside the shop. There were few people, some just being small groups of children, but Alice could hear the store being filled with whispering. It was about her, no doubt, but she went right on about her business as if she didn't notice. It was rude, yes, but what could she do other than cause a scene by telling them so?

She peered into the boxes of kittens along the edge of the room where they were situated. All of them seemed to cry out to her, and it was evident that they had all begun to get noisy at once. She just looked down at them, passing them all by, until one in particular caught her attention. It was a grey kitten, a little under medium size, and it sat in a back corner all by itself away from the rest, as if Alice was meant to have special consideration for it. She reached inside and lifted it up by the scruff of its neck. It mewed softly as Alice looked about it. The cat was female, and her grey coloring was only interrupted by a tiny white spot on her toe. Their green eyes met.

"Why, that's almost a striking resemblance to… " Wendy began as she came up behind her sister, but stopped suddenly for the second time before speaking the name of the family cat that had been lost to the fire.

"Yes. It is," Alice said thoughtfully as the kitten began to purr in her hands. "I think this is the one."

"Oh! She's beautiful!" Morgan exclaimed, taking the kitten from Alice and into her own arms.

"Well, what shall we call her?" Wendy asked.

Alice looked into her sister's eyes and smiled.

"Let's call her Dinah," she said. "We'll start again."

**7**

The rest of the day flew by and night fell. It was hard for Alice to get used to not hearing the screams in the halls. The silence of the house was nearly too tame. Realizing this, she wasn't sure how she would ever get to sleep with such tranquility around her. Alice was in her new room in her reconstructed childhood home. The small place smelled of mothballs, but it was an improvement to Rutledge's – a hundred times over.

She had very little to unpack, but she emptied the small case of her belongings. She'd not packed it herself, but it had been given to her in a suitcase that Wendy had apparently provided some years ago. Lying in the top of the box was a large bundle of letters. A few of them were open, but most were still sealed. The paper of most was yellowed and old.

Alice ignored everything else in the luggage for the time and sat down on the edge of the bed. She untwined the bundle and ripped open a random letter from the middle of the pile. Starting it off was Wendy's handwriting. In the lamplight, she began to read.

_Dear darling Alice, _

_I'm sorry it's been a few weeks since my last letter. Try not to be angry with me. I haven't forgotten you. And I promise that as soon as the doctors allow it again, I'm going to come and visit you. It worries me, dearest. Do try to cooperate with them, won't you? It would make me so happy to see you again._

_At any rate, I'm still working on the house. Yes, I know I talk of it in every letter, but I feel that it would interest you to know the progress. I found this fabulous mirror today, just by chance! It's just like the one, you know, that used to hang over the mantle in the parlor. I remember seeing you try to play with it once, climbing all the way up onto the mantle piece! You thought I wasn't looking…_

Alice stopped reading, suddenly depressed. Perhaps it would not do to read these forgotten notes now. That time had passed, and reading them would just remind her of all that she'd truly missed. Perhaps later she would look over them. Not now.

She bundled all the letters back together and placed them into the case, sticking her hand inside to push past a few personal items until she uncovered something she recognized. There beneath a drawing pad was a stuffed white rabbit.

A large, black unmatched button had been sewn on to replace an eye, and the leg had been neatly stitched on with a deep blue thread, clashing with the doll's original bindings. Nevertheless, the doll was looking quite well these days. All of this was done courtesy of a nurse Alice remembered as Elisa – but strangely that was near about all she remembered about the nurse.

Alice scooped up the rabbit and pulled it into her lap, looking at it a moment. She had not seen it in ages and had not been allowed to go near it after the spring of 1864. _That_ she remembered. It had been lost from her for three years, and then with another three added onto that after she had found it once again. Oh, how she had caused a fit when they had taken it away – both times! But now, very casually, Alice laid the rabbit back onto the suitcase. She no longer had a need for it.

The room was decorated with trinkets, some new, some old, and on a table beside the bed there was a faded picture. Surrounded by a silver frame, a yellowed photo of Alice and her family sat peacefully. Her mother and father and her sister, all dressed up, smiling brightly, posed for the portrait. It was, perhaps, one of the only surviving pieces of that past.

She lifted the photo off the table and lay down on the bed with it. She stared up into it, as though she were about to jump through it and embrace the figures inside. Then finally, she laid it upon her chest and held it against her. The cold glass made her shiver through her thin dressing gown. A tear welled in her eye, but she would not let it fall. This was not the person she was now. All of this was in the past, and she was able to handle it now; that's how she'd gotten out of hell.

Laying in the silence, she heard a small mew and then the door creaked as it was pushed open. The air from the moving door urged the lantern to go out. Dinah, carried by Morgan, entered into the small, dark room.

"Aunt Alice?" Morgan called quietly, trying to make her eyes adjust to the darkness. "Are you in here?"

Alice wondered at first if she should answer, but decided to in the end.

"I'm here," she said, setting the picture away from her, face-down on the mattress. "I'm on the bed."

"Dinah said she wants to sleep with you tonight," said Morgan, coming into the room and lifting the cat onto the bed.

Alice smiled slightly. "Alright."  
Alice turned her face back toward the ceiling. It was so much nicer than at the asylum. There was no dirt or blood on it, it was not damp with rain, and it was complemented adequately by a small and lovely hanging candelabrum with unlit candles. Alice was lost in her own thoughts for a few moments until she realized that Morgan was still standing beside her. She turned her head to look at Morgan sheepishly, but the child's blue eyes shone brightly. They were large like Alice's.

"Was there something you wanted, Morgan?" she asked tolerantly, quite unsure of how to handle the situation.

Morgan, taking this as an invitation, smiled gratefully and climbed onto the bed beside her new aunt. Her long, dust-colored hair hung in gentle waves. _Oh, how much she reminds me of when I was young,_ thought Alice. Morgan just looked down at her aunt admirably for a few moments and studied her features. Alice stared back at her. She was curious to know where this would lead.

"You're very pretty," the small girl offered.

"I think you're very pretty, too," Alice replied, surprised that she felt flattered by the child.

The girl looked pleased with the return of the complement, as if she knew her own beauty and it was not the first time that someone had told her so. Morgan stared on at Alice for a few more moments and then broke her stare with a gaze to the other side of the bed. Alice tilted her head to that side and noticed the stuffed rabbit, hanging over the edge of the suitcase beside her.

"I saw him earlier," said Morgan. "In your suitcase." Then, as if correcting herself, she said: "But I wasn't looking _into_ your things! He was peering out!"

Alice smiled in amusement. She supposed she didn't mind if Morgan _had_ looked into her luggage. This, the girl had obviously done.

"I see," said Alice, humoring her. "And what about him?"

"I think he should want to keep me company tonight," said Morgan.

"Oh really?" Alice asked, looking back at the rabbit hanging over the edge. Had she left it that way?

"Yes. He wants to come and be in my room," the girl said, quite sure of it.

Alice sat in silence for a few moments, looking at the doll. There seemed to be some vague memories about it, but none of them gathered enough in her mind to amount to anything. She recalled that the doll had upset her once, but she did not recall the incident.

"Very well," said Alice finally. "He can sleep with you tonight."

Morgan smiled greatly as Alice picked up the rabbit by the ears and handed it to her. Morgan hopped down off the bed and stood beside it for a moment looking at Alice. She couldn't figure out if she should kiss her good night or not. They had just met, but she _was_ her aunt. Finally she just gave up.

"Good night," she said.

She leaned down and gave Alice a quick peck on her hand and scurried out of the room.  
Alice laughed lightly to herself as the door closed and she heard Morgan hurry down the hall and into her own room – Alice's old room. Alice just looked up to the ceiling as the kitten curled up beside her and began to purr. Yes, she was going to be very happy here.

* * *

_Excerpt in section 1 taken from Rutledge Private Clinic and Asylum Casebook, which came with the game, American McGee's Alice _


	4. Chapter 3

**Behind Sanity**

**Chapter Three**

**1**

A week passed for Alice and her new family, and every morning that she awoke felt like the first morning in some strange, new, pleasant place. She walked with Wendy and Morgan to and from the schoolhouse. During the day, she and Wendy would shop and cook – which Alice had little experience with and often made mistakes. They always had tea. Everything was wonderful and easy, and each day was as wonderful as the day before.

On the eighth day, Alice staggered downstairs for breakfast, feeling that she had not slept so well in ages. In truth, she had hardly ever slept at all before, and to say that she'd gotten more than four hours of comfortable, uninterrupted sleep was astounding. The sweet smell of breakfast now floated past her nose. What _was_ this smell? It had become so foreign that she didn't even recognize it anymore. Or had she just smelled it the day before? Had she fallen asleep in the asylum and awoken here? The smells were so delicate and warm – something she was still not used to. When she finally stepped down into the kitchen, Wendy was at the stove and turned with a warm smile from her cooking.

"Good morning, Alice," she greeted cheerily.

Alice offered a smile, but gave no further greeting. She was much to taken with the daylight streaming in through the window.

Morgan was already at the table chewing at a buttered piece of toast. She wore a long, pink gown with white borders. Her long hair was still disheveled from sleep. To Alice, the girl still looked very tired, as if she hadn't slept at all. Her eyes carried small bags. But Alice had noticed this about Morgan every morning since she had awoken in this place, so she did not think it strange. On the floor beside Morgan's chair lay the white rabbit, its limbs twisted uncomfortably. Its button eyes stared emptily and continuously at the ceiling.

"Have a seat," Wendy said, interrupting Alice's observations. "Your breakfast will be done in a minute. Have some orange juice. There's a glass for you on the table."

Alice found her place at the table across from Morgan, who smiled up at her. She saw Dinah scooting a small dish of milk across the floor as she lapped it up messily. Then Alice peered down at the orange juice under her nose.

"It's good," Morgan commented, licking jam from her small fingers.

Alice lifted the drink up to her nose. Taking a whiff, she determined that there was no medicine swimming in it. She smelled of it again, as though her nose was playing a nasty trick on her. Morgan watched as her aunt took a long drink of the juice and savored the unaltered flavor. Juice every morning for a week, and there was never anything in it. Still, there were habits that Alice had not been able to cast away just yet.

"It's time for you to go and get ready for school, Morgan," Wendy said. "Your clothes are on your bed. Do you need me to come help you with your dress?"

"No," the girl protested. "I can do it myself."

Morgan took one last drink of her juice and climbed from the chair. She picked up the rabbit and tromped upstairs leisurely. Like Alice when she had been young, lessons were not this girl's favorite thing.

Wendy brought a plate of eggs and toast over to Alice and then sat down in the chair where Morgan had been. Alice just stared at the food. She could barely remember what it was like – even though she had just eaten the very same thing yesterday.

"Your appointment with your doctor is at noon today."

Alice looked up suddenly. Doctor? Oh yes; that was right. After a week she was to go back to see Dr. Elliot at the clinic. He was going to ask her questions again and make sure she had adjusted well and liked her new home.

"I'm sure it's nothing to worry about. They probably just want to make sure that you're happy here. I can ride with you," Wendy offered. I'll be going into town anyway."

Alice nodded, taking in a mouthful of toast. Wendy smiled as she watched her. "Good?"

Alice nodded and savored the flavors.

"Did you sleep well?" Wendy asked.

Alice nodded again.

Wendy sat for a few more moments, just watching her sister. The past week had gone so well, and while she was a bit nervous about the doctor visit today, she was sure things would be fine.

"I'm really glad you're here, Alice," she said sincerely.

Alice glanced up from her food for a moment, swallowed and waited for the rations to slide down.

"Yes," she agreed. "I'm glad, too."

**2**

The carriage rolled silently past the iron gates announcing RUTLEDGE INSTITUTE and moved up the hill, ending what was a rather quiet trip. Alice said nothing much along the way, simply taking in the scenery. Wendy had busied herself with simply watching her sister. It was sad, but she felt as if she had to come to know her all over again. The past week had been lovely, but it shouldn't have been this way. Her visiting privileges had been taken away from her after six months of Alice's stay at Rutledge's. Wendy prayed silently that this observation went well; she couldn't bear to lose her sister again.

"I'll be back to get you in about an hour, I suppose," Wendy told her as Alice was helped out of the carriage.

She watched as her sister trailed away, walking up the steps and in through those doors until she could no longer tolerate the thought. It was a bit of a struggle, but Wendy managed to calm herself before she panicked on the thought that her sister would _not come back out_.

**3**

The hospital was just the same as it was a week ago, and Alice didn't have to endure the horrors of the chambers above. The halls of the lower clinic were soft and nicely decorated. She supposed the doctors needed a break from the cells above: _rooms of torture._ She, herself, had been able to dwell in these lower rooms for the last few months of her stay. Still, one could hear the screams deep in the night.

A nurse Alice didn't recognize greeted her as she walked in, catching her attention immediately.

"Hello, Alice? You're right on time. The doctor is waiting for you."

The young woman didn't argue. The nurse led her down the straightest hall known to man and into a room she knew all too well. The office was small, as were all the other rooms in this place. There was a bench on one side of a long oak desk, and on the other side there was a wooden desk chair that belonged to the man she always saw sitting there. Dr. James Elliot.

Alice had been seeing the same doctor for the past four years. When she had first been admitted here, she was in the care of several different doctors, but finally for a whole year she had a steady doctor whose last name was Wilson. He had tried his best with her, but after an unfortunate incident, he'd had to give her up like all the others. She didn't remember very much about Wilson, but since he'd left her, and for the further extent of her asylum stay, she was under the care of the same man: James R. Elliot.

In earlier years, Elliot had always made his appearance in her cell, but after she'd begun to make progress and had been relocated to the lower wing, she was brought to meet him here. She knew how this worked. She walked into the office and sat down in the chair across from the desk silently, the back of the desk chair still turned to her.

"I believe I'm on time. You shouldn't keep me waiting," she said after sitting there in silence and wondering if he would acknowledge her.

There was no reply for a few more moments, but finally the chair behind the desk turned and she found herself looking into an unfamiliar face.

Alice would guess that he was in his thirties. His face was smooth and he was wonderfully built, with toned skin touched lightly by the sun outside the walls. His hair was dark brown, longer in the front than in the back – a bit messy and characteristic of a Rutledge doctor. His eyes gleamed behind small glasses that sat on a smart-looking nose. This man's appearance was unexpected; he was new to her.

Alice just looked at him for a moment in silence before managing to speak through her confusion – though it did not show on her face.

"Where is Doctor Elliot?" she asked finally, not taking too kindly to this sudden change that the hospital had tried to spring on her.

"We thought you might like to see someone different today," the new man said in a strong, yet gentle voice. There was an open casebook in his lap, and once he had turned fully, he set it upon the desktop.

"Who is '_we_'?" she asked calmly. "And whyever would the group of you think that?"

The doctor chuckled and smiled. "You are just like they said."

"Who are _'they'_?" she demanded stubbornly.

"Who are _you_?" he asked, turning it back on her.

"Alice," she said, flatly. "But I think you know who I am."

The man who was attractive in a bookish sort of way leaned back in the tall chair. The daylight from the windows reflected off his glasses.

"Indeed I do," he assured her. "In fact, I have been waiting to meet you for quite some time."

Alice said nothing in response. Deep in the back of her mind, there was a thought that she should be more cooperative, but the greater swell of her brain was filled with stubbornness.

"About four years," he said as though she had asked.

She just stared straight back at him with no expression. She wasn't in the mood to play these games.

"So, now that you know who I am, are you going to introduce _your_self?" she asked.

"Certainly," the man said with good humor, propping his elbows on the desk. "I am Doctor Johnathan A. Robertson, and I am very pleased to meet you, Alice Liddell."

"I wish I could say the same," she said smartly. "You'll forgive me that this meeting is a bit shocking."

Alice pushed back the curls she'd forced into her hair and folded her gloved hands, staring calmly back at the man who called himself Robertson. He chuckled as if she'd made a joke.

"I sense a little anxiety. You have a problem with being here?"

"Why switch doctors?" she asked abruptly. "I'm well. I'm cured of whatever ailment hindered me and I hardly even remember being sick. That's _more_ than one can ask for."

"Perhaps that is true," Robertson said. "And I'm sorry that I must be the one to inform you, but Doctor Elliot is no longer with us here at Rutledge's."

Alice was silent a few moments, considering his words. Why would Elliot not be here? He'd left so abruptly? She'd only just seen him a week ago.

"Where is he?"

"Retirement," the new, young doctor said. "A week ago. Right after his last patient here was set for release."

Alice knew that the patient in question would have been her. But why? Though she was curious, she decided to leave it alone now and return to her first argument.

"I don't _need_ a new doctor," she insisted. "All I need for you to do is confirm that I am truly better and happy so I can go back home."

"Oh no!" he said with a laugh, his eyes twinkling fondly. "That is not the reason at all for this visit! I wouldn't dream of trying to evict you from your new life! I am simply here to meet you."

"To meet me? In order to establish a long doctor and patient relationship? I will _not_ be returning here. What's the true reason?" she demanded, not buying his story.

"That's truly it," he insisted, keeping that smug little smile on his face and tossing his hands in a shrug. "Of course you're going to tell me you're happy, just so you won't have to come back here. If I were you, I'm sure I'd do the same whether I was happy or not. Honestly, I only wanted to ask you a few questions. "

"Oh, why didn't you say that in the beginning?" she asked, crossing her arms across the front of her brown dress.

"I see sarcasm has made an alliance with you," he noted, leaning forward on his desk to prop his head on folded hands.

She seemed pleased with his wit and observation, but still she didn't trust him. In fact, she was sure that she didn't like him at all.

"I assumed we were going to be straight-forward with each other," she said, bringing them back to the subject at hand.

"Alright then," the doctor said, reaching beside him on the desk and picking up several boards – ink blots, the psychiatrists called them. He held one of them up in front of Alice.

"A few simple tests. You've done this before, correct?"

Alice nodded slowly – hesitantly. This was a fairly new study. Some doctors used it, and she'd seen it before, but only a few times at most.

"Now. What do you see?"

Alice looked on in disapproval. Obviously, though it was an inkblot, this spread was meant to be of a rabbit. Alice figured any '_normal_' person would agree that it looked like a rabbit, so she decided not to make a big deal out of this…yet.

"It's a rabbit," she said calmly.

"What about this one?" he asked, switching boards.

Alice stared at it for a moment, and her displeasure became evident on her face. She rolled her eyes back up to him slowly, looking out at him from underneath half-lids of intolerance.

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing."

"What do you mean?" he asked, innocently.

"You're setting me up, that's what," she accused.

"I am doing nothing of the sort. I simply wish to know what you see," he assured her.

Alice sighed and looked down at the ink blot again. This was ridiculous. Unable to oblige him, she looked up at the doctor with narrowed eyes.

"What do _you_ see?" she asked pointedly.

He laughed slightly, but turned the smear of ink towards himself to glance at it, humoring her.

"Maybe a wild animal of some sort. I was never any good at these things."

Alice glared menacingly. "But you know that's not what_ I_ see," she accused again.

"I don't know what you see, Miss Liddell."

"You very well do!" she insisted.

The doctor shook his head, taking off his small glasses and laying them on top of the ink blot he had laid face down on the desk.

"Why are you being defensive? Do you see something that you know you shouldn't?"

Alice said nothing. She didn't know if what she saw meant anything or not. It certainly had no meaning for her, but would he think so? And why was he showing her these? Was she not better? This was ludicrous! He was trying to catch her in something. But she would not cooperate.

"Don't be angry with me, Miss Liddell," he said when she was irresponsive. "I simply wanted to get this conversation started."

"Then just talk to me instead of trying to trick me."

"I see now that I _cannot_ trick you," he said, praising her intelligence.

"_'They_' should have told you that also," she said with a satisfied smile.

The eyes of the doctor and patient met for a few moments and he stared into her, trying to figure out her secret. He would find nothing; there was no secret there anymore. The doctor sighed finally, lowering his folded hands to the desktop.

"I know you saw plainly a cat in that picture – smiling at you. I may have even seen that myself. I've obviously taken your brilliance for granted, and I apologize. Since you aren't falling for it, I guess I should cut to the chase." "Please do," she urged.

He cleared his throat and began to speak, his words rolling out smoothly as he chose them carefully.

"I have been studying your case thoroughly and you are the only one I have ever seen that has come out of it," he explained.

Alice stared at him strangely. "What are you talking about? Of course you haven't seen anyone else. It's _my _case."

"What would you say, Miss Liddell, if I told you that the things you have seen, and this 'Wonderland' you have visited, have been seen and experienced by a number of other people, none of which have ever seen the light of sanity again. Some of which have even _died_ in a distant stupor."

She paused, letting the words roll over her mind.

"I would say that you were a liar and a lunatic. 'Wonderland' was in my mind. I invented it. It was my own place, but it doesn't exist. Dr. Elliot helped me to get rid of it. There is no question in my mind now. I was crazed and suffered because of my parents' deaths… "

"Yes," Robertson barged in. "That _is_ what Elliot told you. When, in reality, you have shared these same experiences with many others. I have been conducting studies, but have been unable to gather any valuable evidence. Those suffering from this 'disease' often slip too far into insanity to even gather any type of information from them – until you, of course. You have been the only one recorded to recover."

"So, you want to do tests on me, is that it?" Alice assumed.

"Well, not in that manner. I simply want you to tell me about what you've seen. How did you get there? How did you become free of it?"

"Oh, that's simple," Alice said with a nod.

"Good," Robertson said happily, moving to open a ledger in front of him. "Then we can get star…"

"But sadly, I won't be able to help you," Alice interrupted. "I'm sorry. I am better now. I really don't know anything about that which you have just wasted my time to ask me. This Wonderland…I have no memory of it. But, even if I did, I can't say that I'd help you. I want to get on with my life, doctor. Whatever 'Wonderland' _was_ is not my concern now."

The wall clock chimed and the both of them glanced up at it. The time had passed. This meeting was over.

"I guess your time is up," said Alice.

"This is your choice, Alice, but you haven't seen the last of me," he assured her.

"Then I look forward to our next session of wasted time," she said pulling herself from the chair and exiting the room without looking back.

**4**

Robertson leaned back in his chair leisurely and watched her walk away. He had not been studying her for this long to have her leave him now, but he smiled to himself as he placed his hands behind his head.

She would be back.


	5. Chapter 4

**Behind Sanity**

**Chapter Four**

**1**

Alice stepped into the cold base of the tub and lowered herself down into the water, putting her back to the rest of the room behind her. The porcelain was heated slowly by the steaming liquid, but the surface was still cold as she placed her bare back to it and closed her eyes. Her skin rose in goose bumps from the contrast, but she made no sound of complaint. She let the warmth wash over her, hoping it would cleanse her of the day's events.

_One can hope._

What had happened to bring on such unfortunate circumstances? A week out of the asylum and without warning a doctor was interrogating her about what she used to be? She was no longer sick. She no longer saw those things she used to see – whatever they had been.

Her doctor – her real doctor, Elliot – had convinced her that Wonderland was all in her head, and so she had disposed of it, and she had not thought about it in several months. She was sane! No one had even brought such subjects up to her in a long time! Suddenly, now, everything had been readdressed. Alice could remember nothing! What was the whole point of her being sane if she was going to be questioned again and again? She had forgotten everything. She remembered no events in 'Wonderland', and she remembered no one there. What was so significant about the smiling cat or the rabbit in the ink blots? What about her stuffed rabbit? Was there something significant about it as well? All of these questions with no answers rushed through her troubled mind, but eventually the girl had to resign herself to give up on the matter. She had too many queries and nothing to satisfy them. Sighing lightly, she resolved to just enjoy the water as it settled around her body – until she heard the noise.

A sudden crash on the tile beyond the tub shook her, and she looked up just in time to see a fairly large shadow dart out the slightly open door. Only a potted plant on the sink had been knocked over, smashing its clay pot, but what had been on the sink to do this? What had moved so fast?

She rose up and pulled her dressing gown down from a shelf, wrapping it around her wet skin. She stepped out of the tub and moved forward to peer through the doorway and out into the hall. At the risk of calling herself crazy, she could have sworn she had latched the door, which was clearly open now. But the fact could not be helped. She looked down both sides of the dim corridor, seeing nothing that might have just left the room. Perhaps she hadn't closed the door like she'd thought and Dinah had found her way inside. When the kitten had knocked over the pot, it may have startled her so that she darted away. Yes, that was reasonable.

She returned to her bath without another thought to it, nearly falling asleep before she'd pulled herself back up from the cooling water. Alice put on her robe once again and wrung out her hair. It was time to sleep now. Sleeping would help her forget this wretched day.

Letting out a yawn, the young woman walked through the door to move back to her peaceful room. She was quite tired by now, and the mattress would be a soft comfort. Not paying attention as she should have, she bumped into something large and dark on the other side of the door and a gasp escaped her lips. She jerked back, clutching her robe together instinctually before peering up to see what she'd so clumsily run into.

Stern, cold eyes glared down at her inches above a large frown. Grey and blond stubble had weeded its way out of his chin. And of course, she noticed the scars. They were pertinent fixtures to his appearance now, running at specific points across his face and arms. How could she ever forget them, though she couldn't quite recall why they were there. The man stood in front of her unabashed, wearing a look of pure disapproval. His tall, hard frame blocked her way to the hall.

"Alice," he sneered in his American accent that Alice had always thought disagreeable. "What are you doing in my house? I leave for a bit and this is what I have to come back to?"

His voice was calm, but full of hatred toward her. Alice knew this man anywhere, even though it had been six years since she'd seen him. The first week had been lovely without his domineering gaze, but eventually she'd known he would return to this house.

"Hello, Tommy," she said with as much false cheer as possible. "Not nice of you to look, as improperly dressed as I am. Could I get by please?"

"You know," he interrupted, refusing to budge, "I never imagined you'd get out of that place. I have to know: how did you do it? Did you do a few favors so that the nice doctor would sign the release forms? Honestly, I still don't see it. I thought it was fairly obvious that you were a fully insane little bitch."

"Well, then I suppose I am, Tommy. It's always been whatever _you_ think, isn't that right? But, you shouldn't use such language – not with a child in the house."

She tried to push past him once again, but he wouldn't let her by, placing his hands on each side of the door frame. He leaned down slightly to peer into her eyes.

"Please let me by," she said, as nicely as possible.

"I can't believe Wendy actually brought you back here," the man said as if he hadn't heard her at all. "If I'd been home, you'd never have gotten past the front door. I just want to tell you, Alice: one odd behavior out of you towards my family or whatnot; I don't care _what_. You will be out of here and back in that prison where you belong."

"How sweet a welcome. I'm really glad to see you too, Tommy. You know, we should just talk about this in the morning," she said, finally managing to squeeze past him. "Goodnight."

She moved away as swiftly as she dared, feeling relief with the fact that she could not hear him following her – even though she did not cease to feel his eyes burrowing holes into the back of her head.

**2**

Thomas Madison watched her – that crazy girl – go into_ her_ room in_ his_ house. This had certainly come as a surprise to him, but suddenly Wendy's desire to have work done to the guest room made more accurate sense. Wendy had met him at the door with this delicate news, and it had gripped him with such anger and shock that he hadn't said a word, only stalked off through the house to locate this unwelcome guest. He saw now that it was just as Wendy had revealed. Alice was free of Rutledge's, and she was here.

He didn't like the thought of this at all, as Wendy no doubt had known before she'd brought the girl here. He remembered Alice from the days of her youth, and even then his feelings for her were less than fond. They had never truly gotten along. Having married Wendy seven years ago, he remembered Alice when she was a simple young girl who never said much, but then all of a sudden she had changed. The night he talked about her rabbit: the night he had questioned her sanity. He remembered it well – a memory that still lingered thickly in his mind like the morning fog.

He had left the colonies because of the Christmas holiday and took the long trip across the Atlantic to see his love, Wendy. He'd met her a year before during a voyage he'd taken to England, and did not regret any minute of their relationship. He would make her his wife, and all would be well with the world after the horrible tragedy in her life.

He opened a bag that sat beside him on the ship's deck. Inside was a present for his beloved: the ring that would give them the life together that they'd wanted for some time. This was her first Christmas without her mother and father as well. Wendy's sister Alice had been living with her because she was young and had taken an awful blow from the whole ordeal. Not to mention the horrible scars... Tommy had brought a trinket for her as well, but nothing nearly as spectacular as what he would present to Wendy. He was ready to see his beloved, and his smile could not be tarnished.

After a long and toilsome voyage, he finally planted his feet upon the doorstep. He looked up at the house with twinkling eyes while he lifted the heavy knocker. The door was answered promptly.

"Tommy!" Wendy said excitedly as she opened the door and grasped him in a hug. "It's so good that you're here, my dear!"

Tommy hugged her back happily, but further inside the house, he saw little Alice, then eleven, sitting on the floor beside the fireplace, unmoving. She stared straight at him, and he could see the fire reflecting in her empty green eyes.

"Merry Christmas, Alice," he offered, but she looked back at him in a refusing manner.

"Merry Christmas," she said emotionlessly after a silent struggle. Then she turned her face toward the fire.

"Come in, Tommy. Take off your coat! Have a seat! I'm almost done with the cooking," Wendy said and hurried back into the kitchen.

Tommy sat down in a large armchair before the hearth, but behind where Alice had seated herself on the floor. He stared at the girl's back for quite some time. She simply sat, silently, staring into the flames as if they were beckoning her to join them.

_What is she doing? _he wondered._ Is she still stuck on her parent's death? Look at those eyes: so sad, so alone, so empty. What could she be thinking?_

"What are you thinking about, Alice?" he tried. Perhaps she would let him inside her mind.

There was a long silence before she spoke. The fire crackled.

"Nothing."

"There must be _something_," he pried, shifting a bit in the chair. He tried to make his voice sound pleasant so that she would be more compliant, but Alice seemed oblivious to that. There was another long pause before she replied.

"No," she said finally, refusing to turn her head.

It was his turn to sit in silence. She wasn't going to admit the truth? Perhaps he should say it, bringing it all out into the open so that she would not fear it any longer.

"Are you thinking about your parents?" he asked, perhaps foolishly, but it prompted a response.

She turned her face toward him slowly and looked straight though his eyes. Now that he thought back on the incident, he believed she'd looked a bit hurt at that moment. The poor girl hadn't been the same since her parents' death, and perhaps he had been an insensitive brute to bring the subject up. He'd been young, however, and the thought hadn't occurred to him at the time.

"I said I wasn't thinking about anything," she insisted.

Her tone was almost threatening, but he brushed it off when she turned her eyes away again.

"But I think you are. I think you're remembering what happened that night," he pressed on.

"I'm not," she said flatly.

"Alice, you have to let it go," he continued on stubbornly. "Like your sister. She's moved on."

"I _said_ I wasn't thinking about it!" the child said, getting rather annoyed.

"I think maybe you need some help toward this. I can help you."

"I said–"

"You know what?" he interrupted. "Here's what you should do."

He stooped down from the chair then and picked up the old stuffed rabbit beside her. Her eyes had flashed violently up at this, and she looked at him with an unreadable expression, her eyes tracing his every movement.

"You should lock this thing up in the attic somewhere. It will help you let go."

"I don't want to," she insisted.

"Come on, Alice! What are you now? Ten? Eleven years old? You don't need this toy. It will be a big step for you in the right direction. You'll feel much better."

"Put it down, please," she asked as nicely as possible, turning back to the fire.

"Alright then, I'll just go do it for you so you don't have to watch."

"Please. Just give it back," she continued to request.

"You'll feel much better. I promise," he said, and he rose from the chair and moved toward the direction of the attic.

He wasn't sure how he had expected the girl to react, but he knew he hadn't planned for that did transpire. Tommy's nerves sent a pulse throughout him as Alice grabbed hold of the rabbit's leg abruptly as he stepped past her, gripping it with strength he'd not expected – strength a child should not have had.  
"Let. Go," she threatened.

"I won't," said Tommy, standing his ground, but neither did Alice falter.

"Let him go!"

"You're worse than I thought!" Tommy chuckled. "You call it 'him'? How pathetic! Just let me have it and your troubles will be over!"

But Alice would not let go. She kept a firm grip on it as he tried to pull it from her grasp, but nothing he tried would make her let go. Without warning, Tommy jerked the doll from her grasp, but with a bobble on his end, the lightweight rabbit shot away from his hand and soared through the air. It landed in the scalding fire as Alice let out a piercing scream.

It had been a mistake. He hadn't meant to hurt the toy. He would have given it back to her at the attic door, but the opposition confused him. Tommy's eyes were wide, and he began muttering an apology.

"I'm sorry, Alice. It was only a joke, dear."

He'd truly felt horrible about the whole thing. It was his way to be a bit demanding and harsh, and perhaps it was the wrong way – to bully her into feeling so foolish about her sorrow that she would put it away. Still, he'd never meant for anything to happen to the doll.

Alice grabbed a poker and quickly began maneuvering the rabbit out of the hearth, emitting stressful sounds as she did so. The rabbit fell out onto the hardwood floor, the whole of its backside scorched a light brown. She just stared down at it as Tommy stood beside her.

"What's going on?" asked Wendy as she came in the room. Then she caught sight of the rabbit. "Oh, Alice," she said sympathetically.

"I'm very sorry, Alice," Tommy tried. "I was only..."

"I can't believe you!" Alice said, cutting right through him with both her eyes and voice.

"It was– "

"No one… " she started, as a tear welled in her eye. "No one… "

"I'm really very sorry, Alice," he said earnestly, but she wasn't listening. She began to approach him and, for some reason he never could comprehend, he backed away in haste. She was only eleven, and he should have been able to overpower her easily, but he felt something strange in the pit of her stomach, as if he was not viewing only a small girl but an army of demons behind her.  
"Alice, calm down," he urged, but his words fell on deaf ears.

"No one… " she muttered again, shaking her head.

He shouldn't have been afraid of such a small girl, but he had been. And who knew what she was capable of in her mental state? The way she advanced…her grip tight around the fireplace poker…

"Alice!" Wendy called, trying to get her attention away from Tommy, but it didn't work. Her eyes were glued.  
Alice had managed to back him all the way up to the wall where he stumbled and slumped to the floor. He kept close watch on the poker in her hand, even though he couldn't quite manage to rise again. She would do nothing drastic, would she? The girl lowered her voice then, her eyes flashing, and she pressed her forehead to his.

"No one… "she began, "…_does that to my friends_."

She lifted the poker and slammed it into Tommy's side, the sharp, hooked extension puncturing his skin. He yelled in horror as his shirt became wet with blood. Wendy screamed at what her sister had done, but felt helpless to stop it.

"Alice!"

"Wendy! Help me!" Tommy yelled, as Alice again gouged him with the poker. "Get someone! Anyone!"

He knew Wendy hated to do it, but she finally ran outside in hopes that there was an officer on patrol nearby. Perhaps Tommy could have grabbed the child then, threw her down and wrestled the weapon away, but by that time all he remembered about the incident was the pain.

Alice continued to gouge him with impossible strength – once at the head, in his arms, his leg. Blood splattered across her face and dress, but she didn't seem to notice. He held up his hands, trying to shield himself, but the action did not halt her, and just as he was completely trembling in fear and muttering through tears how sorry he was, the beating stopped abruptly.

Still shielding his face, Tommy looked up to see Alice looking about her furiously. Suddenly, she called out "Wait!" and took off running down the hall. After a moment, there was a loud thud, and Wendy came back inside, followed closely by the bobby.

"Are you alright?" she asked him frantically, through tears. "How could this happen? What did you _do_ to her?"

Tommy had just sat there on the floor, boiling with emotion and pain until a doctor had been summoned. Alice had been found lying in the hall, flat on the floor, unconscious. No one was sure of what had happened to her. She was rushed straight to Rutledge's where she remained comatose for months. Tommy healed within those few months, but he still bore the scars.

He had been happy without Alice, even forgetting she existed, but now to see her here as if she _belonged_, he was angry. He didn't like the thought of this wretched creatureliving in his house. He was determined that this would not last long. He and Wendy would have to have a talk.

**3**

Alice pulled on her long white gown and flopped onto the bed, her hair still wet and unattended. While her body was clean, her mind was summoned back to the troubles of the day. What had happened to her those past years at Rutledge's? Even Tommy seemed aware, but she remembered nothing but the screams in the halls and a few of the faces, but as far as what she had experienced there, she was unsure. But she knew one thing now: she was not mad. She was not! There was no way she wanted to remember anything if it would make people to believe she was insane again. She had a nice life starting in a world where people loved her. Yes, she missed her parents, but their death was an accident and nothing more.

Dinah curled up beside her on the bed and Alice stroked her soft fur. The cat began to purr softly. Suddenly, a thought hit Alice as she listened to the sound, and she furrowed her brow in confusion.

_Why do cats growl when they are happy and wag their tails when they are angry_, she wondered. _Then again, they don't really 'growl' they purr, so I suppose it's different, but why?_

Alice thought and thought, but the only answer that would pop into her head was that cats were insane. Insane. Crazy. Eccentric. Lunatic. _Mad_. But why? Why was that the only answer she could come up with, and why did it seem so familiar to her? Had she thought about these things before? Alice's eyelids began to get heavy and she thought about this awkward question until she no longer could think.

**4**

_Wake up, Alice._

The young woman opened her eyes slowly, expelling the darkness behind her lids. She could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall and turned her head to peer at it through the dark. From the light of the moon, she could make out the position of the clock hands. _Three-thirty_. But she was no longer tired. She had slept her full time, now what was she to do? She lifted her head and peered across the room. She fought a mass of tangles with her long fingers in an attempt to clear the path to her eyes.

A cold chill crept over her as she rested there in the dark, but she couldn't lie back down in the warm sheets. She had to get up. She put her feet on the floor and felt another chill rush throughout her body. _Just like Rutledge's_, she thought. She took a deep breath of the stale air. At least the place smelled better than the asylum.

Alice pulled herself from the bed and decided to go to the kitchen. Her throat had gotten very dry quite suddenly. She was parched. She quietly opened her door, half expecting a ringing of bells to alert Tommy that she was leaving the room, but there was no sound. She left the door open and headed to the stairs which did not creak under her feet. She almost wished they would, as to end the deep silence all around her, only broken by the quiet ticking of a clock in the kitchen she was slowly approaching. Exiting the soft, carpeted stairway and putting her pale foot down on the cold tile, she let her hands guide her along the wall to the shelf. Surely there would be something to drink there; she didn't care how warm it was.

Finally locating a shelf above a countertop, her fingers met with a bottle of something red-colored – perhaps grape juice – or wine, though she didn't know why such a thing wouldn't have been in the cellar. But she didn't have it in her to care. She carefully unscrewed the lid and held it with her left hand as she lifted the bottle to her lips.

As she lifted it past her chin, she stopped short and her green eyes pierced through the bottle to the label on the far side. Turning the bottle around with one hand, she twisted the label towards herself and read the large print. Clearly stated on the bottle in bold print were words that made her heart speed:

_DRINK ME. _

Alice's hand began to shake abruptly at the very sight of these words. Something sparked inside of her mind, but she couldn't put her finger on what it was. She closed her eyes as her shaking hand made the drink come over the top of the bottle and spill down her arm. She heard it splatter on the floor as she opened her eyes again and peered at the label.

_Grape Juice_, it read.

She shook her head as the blood stopped pounding in the back of her brain. Why was she acting so strangely? Why had that bothered her so, and why had she seen something that wasn't truly there? She could remember nothing that could rekindle this kind of reaction.

She shook her head again and groped for the bottle, but it had already fallen from her grasp and shattered on the floor, the reddish-purple juice flooding out over the tile. Instinctually listening for any indication that someone had heard the disturbance, Alice dropped to her knees in the dark. She fumbled with the glass pieces rapidly, trying to gather them together with shaking hands.

While placing the pieces in the palm of her awaiting hand, a small shard sliced the tip her index finger. She winced slightly, but only pulled the piece from her finger and watched as the blood gathered in a droplet and ran down into her palm.

_Blood_, she thought. _I'm bleeding._

The thought didn't bother her a bit.


	6. Chapter 5

**-New-**

**Behind Sanity**

**Chapter Five**

**1**

Alice made it through the next day decently, even after so many unpleasant incidents. She would have to agree with Wendy when her sister commented that she looked more tired than usual, but she was still able to carry on in good spirits and smile when Wendy looked at her, and laugh when she skipped home with Morgan that afternoon.

She did not, however, forget about the night before.

Her finger was sore from the cut of the broken bottle. It smarted as she thought about what she had seen written on that bottle of juice, insisting to herself that it must have been a groggy mistake. She must have been dreaming or something of that sort, because there was no way she had seen the words DRINK ME on that label. Yes, it was some strange dream. Nothing, of course, that had any bearing on her sanity.

"Aunt Alice, are you listening?"

Alice gasped shortly at the invasion to her thoughts. She realized where she was so suddenly that it surprised her nearly to the point of fear. She was only sitting in the parlor with Morgan, but the way she'd jerk back, one would have thought she'd been summoned back from some forgotten plain. Still, it did not take long for Alice to remember. She calmed when she did.

She tilted her eyes to the small girl who looked back at her so expectantly with a book spread across her lap. _Oh yes, we were reading over her lessons._

"Of course," Alice assured her with a nod of affirmation. "Go right ahead."

Morgan looked up at her aunt for a short disbelieving moment before giving her attention back to the book, pronouncing every word slowly and carefully.

"'In…my…y-youth,'…Father William re…re…"

"Replied," Alice aided sweetly.

Morgan went on and Alice shook her head slightly. Old Father William at age five? What were those teachers thinking?

The girl went on and Alice's mind once again drifted to the night before and the bottle. _Drink me…_ What did it mean? She could think on it the whole night through and never find an answer. If only she could just forget it and pay attention to Morgan. If only…

From down the hall, muffled voices reached her ears, pulling her interest. While she'd been hoping for something that would trouble her less, she did not find it. These voices belonged to Tommy and Wendy. They were heated, and she knew without hearing the words what they were talking about. Alice strained her ears to hear, but she could not.

"'You are…old,' said the…youth. 'As I m…m…m"

Alice noticed the girl struggling only by chance as she tried to stretch her ears, wishing – perhaps for not the first time – that they were made of taffy instead of flesh.

"M…m…"

"Mome raths."

The words floated out of Alice's mouth before she'd registered them herself. Even after they'd touched Morgan's ears and the girl looked up at her aunt in confusion, Alice did not realize she'd even spoken. She was much too busy trying to listen to the muffled tones down the hall.

"What?" Morgan asked, tilting her head like a confused animal.

"Hm?" Alice asked, drawing her attention back to the girl briefly, albeit absently.

"You said '_mome raths'_. Neither of those are real words."

The notion ran by Alice that she might ask how such a small child would know such a thing, but it passed her quickly.

"Oh…I-I'm sorry, Morgan, darling. Excuse me for just a moment. Just stay there and work on your lessons."

She rose up from the sofa then, unable to hold in her curiosity any longer. The voices down the hall were growing more audible as she took steps, and since that was the result she wanted, she did not turn away. Her gentle footfalls led her to a crack of light streaming out from a room that her mother had used in days past as a sewing room.

Leaning easily against the doorframe, she listened carefully without bothering to peer inside.

"I just can't believe you would go behind my back in this. You know that marriage without trust is nothing. It doesn't _work._ We _agreed._ We agreed that we would find a place for her, but not here. Not in _this house_!"

Tommy was trying his best to be calm; Alice could tell. He didn't make a habit of yelling at his wife, even over something so jeopardizing – in his opinion. The man was doing well, managing to keep his voice at a heated, normal tone. For the time, Wendy was silent. Alice imagined her sitting in a chair, eyes cast downward with her hands folded in her lap. Yes, that was her sister. She did not like confrontation.

"I know she's your sister and you feel like you should look out for her, but really, Wendy. _Here_! We don't even know what she's capable of!"

Wendy then made a quiet attempt, but it was not at reason.

"I met with her doctor several times; I told you. Dr. Elliot assured me that she was quite normal and would cause us – "

Wendy's voice was small, and Tommy was hardly listening.

"It feels like betrayal," he interrupted. "I can just hardly believe that you chose her over me."

"I'm sorry about what she did to you, Tommy. I really am…"

What she _did_? Alice's brow furrowed, thinking back as far as she could remember. She knew Tommy looked on her distastefully, but for all her efforts she could not recall why. One thing was certain though: Tommy did not like Wendy's words just now.

"It is not _your_ place to apologize! You do not have to keep covering up for her! Alice is not your responsibility!"

His voice was louder now – more forceful. _Insulted_. Alice had to grip the wooden frame to keep from pushing her way into the room and confronting the man on her sister's behalf – and perhaps a bit for her own.

"She made her own choices; or maybe she had no control. But if she was insane enough to not understand what she was doing – to be so screwed around! – do you really think she should be here? Around our daughter?"

Wendy's voice came again, low and even.

"She's alone with our daughter _now_."

"Sweet Mary, mother of God," Tommy swore abruptly with annoyance, treading swiftly for the door.

Alice managed to pull herself into a room nearby before the man emerged, and he moved down the hall where he would find Morgan in the parlor alone, sitting in the large armchair. Alice simply held the door of the dark, musty room shut. She knew she would have to eventually venture from here and face what was beyond, but for now, she stood still and quiet.

Was all this true what she had heard? She knew Tommy didn't want her here, but Wendy – her own sister – only wanted her around because of what? Because she felt guilty? For what? For their parents' death? For Alice's past madness? For not letting Alice die as she'd wanted all those years ago? The young woman stood in the dark room, and this house had never felt so foreign.

_"Alice…"_

The sound of the whisper in the dark dragged across her ears like a dull scalpel scraping glass. Shocked to complete stillness, she caught her breath. But she could not manage to turn around. This room was empty. She was alone here. In a house this size, however, how could she say that there could not be someone here, hiding in a dark corner…

She felt that a large, cold slug had trailed a sticky mess across her spine. The door was in front of her. In fact, her hand was still clenching the knob. She'd only but to turn it to dash out of the room, fleeing from whomever was inside with her, calling her name as if he_ knew_ her.

"Who's there?" she asked in a choked whisper.

_"You know it's what you want."_

Alice thought she might have blushed then, though she wouldn't have known for the chill that fear had put on her. The voice was much too personal – so dark – talking to her like no man had talked to her before. But it knew something she didn't. She did not understand.

"What…? What do you mean?"

Though she could hear no footsteps, she could feel something advancing behind her. Was it some murderer? Some dark man who would seduce her into letting him wrap his hands around her throat and squeeze her shut until she was dead?

_"Are you a common duck? Or an odd duck?"_

Alice shook her head slightly. Her grip on the doorknob tightened, but nearly slipped from the dampness of her palm.

"I don't – I don't understand."

The voice chuckled lightly.

_"Either way, things stay tame. Depths rise and truths lie, and you must do the same."_

Alice listened to the sound of the low, purring tones. She realized something terrible then. Her heart jumped.

"You're not really here, are you?"

Her throat was dry. She gulped several times to remedy it. Even with her acknowledgement that this voice was just the same as the DRINK ME sign on the bottle, the thing behind her did not vanish like a vapor.

_"Follow…"_

Fingers clenched her hair, gently sliding through the dark locks. It might have been calming if she hadn't been so near to a scream. Follow? She had no voice left to ask.

_"Follow the White Rabbit!"_

The last words were a rapidly issued command, and much too swiftly for Alice, the door of the room flew open without permission as if some supernatural wind had jerked it from her grasp. A short shriek passed from her mouth before she could stifle it, the greater light from the hall blinding her momentarily.

"Alice! What are you doing in here?"

Wendy stood before her. Her mouth was turned down in concern, but her eyes were wide with fear. Tearstains rested on her cheeks. Alice noticed, but she was much too shaken by her own experience to register her sister's distress properly.

With her sister standing so near and shedding light within, Alice turned her head to look behind her without fear of consequence. The room was only full of junk – old furniture that was covered in dusty sheets. Could someone have been hiding there? Or was there no one there at all?

"Alice?"

With a slight shudder, the younger sister came back to reality. Here, only her own family's lies could choke her.

"I got lost."

It was a terrible lie, but Wendy would believe it. Yes, that was heartache mingled with terror she saw in her sister's eyes when she looked at her. In her mind, Wendy was telling herself: _My poor dear Alice. I must do everything I can to save her._ Alice recognized it. She thought it was horrible.

"Your room – it's upstairs. Would you like me to take you back there?"

"Oh, no no. I remember now. I just – I really don't know where I was going."

Alice moved past her sister, refusing to look back. She could hear the sound of her own breathing as it drifted to her ears.

_Breath. Yes. That's all I hear. Nothing else but that. And I didn't hear anything in that room. I didn't…_

She had, however, heard the conversation between husband and wife. It troubled her. Her footsteps carried her away until she was gone.

**2**

In her dream, she was asleep.

In her dream, she was asleep against a tree.

In her dream, she was asleep against a tree and she was dreaming about sleep.

And the green grass grew all around and around, and the green grass grew all around.

Alice woke up. She was startled in the beginning, but calmed instantly when she realized where she was. She was where she should have been – lying in the green grass. Her burgundy dress was wrinkled and there were bits of broken grass in her carefully curled hair, but all in all she was presentable. She could still make it back to tea.

She hardly stopped to wonder what a young woman of her age was doing falling asleep in the tall grass. That was something children did. No one would have to know, however. She would still make it to tea.

_Sweet, bitter tea_. She smiled at the thought of it.

Her legs carried her through the high grass and down the hill, aiming to cut back through the woods to reach home. Alice scratched her head, removing a small twig. How long had she been asleep? She wondered. The sky was still light, but she had to admit that the day appeared to be dying. She looked to the trees then, realizing suddenly that there was no wind. There were no birds singing; no sounds from evening bugs. There was only silence and stillness. Alice stopped, her legs ceasing to rustle the tall grass. Something was not right.

She turned her head back toward the tree where she had been sleeping, realizing then that she could not see anything in the distance beyond the grass and trees. She was not quite in the woods, yet nothing else seemed to exist. It was unnerving to her, but she pressed forward. Home was not far.

_What's that…?_

A shock ran through her, causing her heart to speed even before she understood what she was looking at. It was the color of the liquid that spilled down over the wooden sign – a thick, dark red. She hadn't remembered the sign before, but its appearance was not what rattled her most. It was the thing she was sure she saw atop it.

Impaled upon the sign's post was a man's head.

Alice stepped closer, _cautiously_, her fingers clenching her dress without her knowing. The head had certainly seen better days – considering that it had once been attached to someone's body. The sun had bloated it and rot had claimed it. The skin was sliding off the skull. Alice could smell it now. It was a stench like ruined eggs, only _worse_. She did not want to look at it but she could not turn away as she edged closer. She did not know how it had gotten here or who had killed this man, but what she could not stop thinking about was how oddly misshapen the head was. It was more round than it was wide, and it seemed almost to be pointed at the crown.

_Who's there?_

A rustle in the stillness jerked her around. Was there someone there? She wanted to go home. The mounted head had not been fresh, but someone had certainly been murdered here and she needed to tell the proper authorities. She moved along, but not without forcing herself to read the sign.

It had been a sign post, pointing off in directions whose names were unreadable now. Instead, there was a new message sprawled in blood.

_Long is the way and hard that out of Hell leads up to light._

Had Alice heard that before? No, surely not. It did not sound familiar after all. With hardly a moment's more lingering, she darted off through the woods. The place seemed to grow darker with each step she took. The dark trees seemed to lean over her, trying to get a better look at her fear. Her feet sank into the soggy moss below, squishing unpleasantly. From out of the darkness, tiny eyes watched her. Why? Why were they watching her? She could not stop to look. Her thin, weak body pressed onward.

She barely managed to stop when she reached the hole.

The opening in the ground was massive, as if the earth had simply sunken in at the base of a large, wicked tree. Teetering on the edge, Alice peered down into the pit that seemed to move on forever through the darkness of the earth. Vines tangled around each other, seeming to battle for a place on the wall of the hole. The woman herself could not understand why _anything_ would want to go down there, as she certainly had not planned to. But at the same time, she could not look away. It was as if all the wind had been pulled inside the hole, and now it was gently urging her forward.

"_Come to us…"_

The voice drifting up from the hole was unlike anything she'd heard before. If the air itself had a voice, she was certain it would have sounded like this. She did not know if the following echo was the same voice or not, but she knew it sounded just as serious and persuasive as the first. Her large eyes spanned the darkness once again.

"No," she said, taking a step back. "I don't want to."

The pit groaned. Alice watched with wide eyes as masses of black bugs began to crawl up from the hole. The roots and vines that reached down inside began to twist and writhe. She knew they were coming for her. She turned and retreated back the way she had come.

_This is a dream_, she told herself. _I only have to wake up_.

She ran on. The woods were finally full of sound. The wind was coming after her. The black bugs buzzed. The vines were moving, slapping against the ground as they went for her ankles.

_Wake up, Alice_, she coached. _Wake up!_

Vines reached in, gripping her ankles. They jerked her to the ground, and while she tried to dig her fingers into the soil, she could not keep herself from being dragged across the ground and back toward the hole.

_No. No! This can't be! I won't go down there! I won't!_

"_Stop_!" she screamed with all the force she could muster.

And _stop_ everything did.

Alice sat up in her bed, in the room Wendy had given her in her old house, sweating. She breathed deeply for several moments, calming down until an image of the hole came back to her. Alice vomited all over her gown.


End file.
